


De Memoria

by ProxyOne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, Destiel Smut Brigade, M/M, Post Demon!Dean, Top Castiel, Valentines Day Fic, d/s dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 01:32:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4202892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProxyOne/pseuds/ProxyOne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean finds himself sitting in the kitchen in the middle of the night on Valentine's Day, reminiscing about his time with Cas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	De Memoria

**Author's Note:**

> So I initially wrote this for the DSB's Valentine's Day fic dump, but for a variety of reasons removed it. Decided screw it, I'll put it back up.
> 
> As before, unbeta'd, and as part of the challenge I decided to write present tense for the bulk of it which I am very much not used to, so I apologise for any random tense slips that have managed to get through.

The first time Dean met Cas, he tried to kill him. Like, he really tried. Stabbed him right through the heart with Ruby's demon blade. In Dean's defence, he did have every reason to believe that Cas was there to kill _him_. Now that Dean knows Cas, knows him better than he knows himself half the time, he realises how laughable the idea is. But still, he didn't know him _then_ , and given that he was freshly raised from hell - literally - it only made sense to leap to that conclusion. And anyway, everyone knew that there was no such thing as angels. Right up until that night that Cas put on a fireworks show, actual sparks flying everywhere, and displayed his giant freaking wings like a goddamn peacock. And, probably most importantly, _didn't_ kill him.

It's true, Dean didn't trust him at first - especially once he discovered what complete dicks the angels were - but a lot can change over time, and it began to change with Cas almost immediately. It wasn't always smooth sailing, far from it. His relationship with Cas, particularly early on, was always more of a one step forward, two steps back nature, but it didn't take long for trust, a real bond to form between the two of them. How could it not? Castiel pulled Dean out of hell, away from the clutches of Alistair and all those other demons, and Dean showed Cas was being human was really all about.

Dean remembered when Sam had first met Cas, the first meeting of the two most important people in his life. Sam was so excited to be finally meeting this being, and Dean wasn't entirely sure if it was because Sam had always believed in angels and was finally getting to see one for real, or if it was because he was so grateful to Cas for saving his brother. If Dean was being strictly honest with himself, while he was pleased they were meeting, he was also slightly jealous, though did his best to suppress those feelings at the time. He knows now of course what that was all about, but then? No, not a chance. He was just unsure about their reactions and was worried. He certainly wasn't harbouring a secret wish that Cas could be just his, that he would be the important one that Cas would always go to. As it turned out, of course, there was nothing to worry about. Not in that respect, anyway.

But all of that was so long ago, back when they were so tentative around each other. Cas claims now that he was always very clear about how he felt about Dean, even then, but that just makes Dean laugh. A lot. An angel's idea of "clear" and "to the point" doesn't always coincide with a human's, and Cas has always been somewhat less straightforward or even understanding of emotions, even by angel standards. It makes Dean smile as he takes another swig of his beer. He still wonders how exactly it has come to this. Here he is, drinking beer in the kitchen in the middle of the night, reminiscing over the times he spent with an angel of the lord - an angel who was once the most powerful force Dean had ever seen, and who was now -

Dean's eyes fall down to the bottle in his hand, fingers idly picking at the label. It's not fair, he thinks, the complete and total imbalance when it comes to the things Cas has done and _sacrificed_ for Dean, when compared to how little Dean feels he's done for Cas. It makes him feel like shit, and now it's Valentine's Day, and he had wanted to do something special. Of course, he has no idea _what_ , and it's probably too late to even try anything big. And _that_ is why, musings circling back around, he is here. In the kitchen, drinking beer in the middle of the night and hoping to fuck that Sam  & Cas don't wake up for a midnight snack or something. If he can maybe keep a track of what Cas has done for him, he can make this one small holiday something that can at least show him how much he appreciates it, even if it doesn't come close to making things more even.

Of course, it's not like Cas has been perfect. There was all that stuff with Crowley and Purgatory, and that was something Dean didn't think he was ever be able to get over. It's amazing, he thinks, what seeing someone die can do to your sense of priorities. Seeing Cas die, thinking he was gone forever over all of those months...it didn't make him forget, but it put him in a hell of a better place when it came to forgiving him once he was back. That was the _third_ time Cas had died for Dean. He lifts the bottle to his mouth, a small breathy laugh escaping as he does so. What sort of fucked up lives did they lead that that was even possible? And it's not like that was the last time, either.

Dean remembers clearly when he first became aware of just how differently he viewed Cas. When Zachariah, that dick, threw him forward into what was then the future, and he saw Cas. Everyone, but _everyone_ else had left him. But not Cas. He'd stayed. He'd stayed even though he knew what it meant, he stayed even though he knew that the future version of Dean was going to send him to his death. And that changed everything. He stayed in the future, and he saved him in the past, and it seemed like Cas was the only constant that Dean was ever going to have.

Hell, Cas threw off heaven's control of him twice in order to help out the Winchesters. Though, with another wry smile, Dean has to admit that the second time it was all him, and nothing to do with Sammy. Even if Dean was completely clueless about that for a good long while afterwards.

And all of that, as much as it was, was still nothing compared to the grand daddy of them all. Dean scratched idly at his forearm, now blessedly free from blemish. He really didn't want to think about where he'd be now, if it wasn't for Cas. Cas gave up more than just his life to free Dean from it's influence. He struggled to remember it, sometimes, but other times, like tonight, he remembered in all too clear detail.

~*~

Dean turned, smiling as he sauntered towards his brother.

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. Did you really think this was gonna work? That you could, what. Convince me just with the power of your words to return to what I was? Doesn't work like that, little brother."

He caressed the blade idly as he approached the injured man lying on the ground, not even bothering to keep an eye on him. Sam was conscious enough to hear what Dean was saying, but he was in no condition to move. It was perfect, really. It gave Dean the perfect opportunity to torture Sam in all the ways he knew how.

"Dean, please." Sam whimpered, and it thrilled Dean. This was what it was all about. No more guilt, no more worry, just the chance to finally get free of all the things that tied him to humanity. Well, almost all the things. That angel was still somewhere. Injured, but not dead yet. Dean would know if Castiel was dead. He snarled in irritation, then damped the feeling down. He could wait. It's not like either of them were going to kill Dean, and he was ready to stop them trying to inject him with blood or whatever their plan was. That wasn't going to happen again. Ever.

"Dean, please." he parroted, smirking. On the ground Sam winced as he tried to move. "Yeah, that's not gonna work either, Sammy. You got more than a few torn ligaments in those legs. You're not going anywhere." He smiled as he spoke, tone giving a sense of levity that Sam surely wasn't feeling.

"Dean, there's gotta be some part of you that's still you in there. You don't want to hurt me, to hurt us."

"Ah yes, Dean. That pushover who never cared about himself and only cared about others? Yeah, sorry to break this to you but he's gone. And I couldn't be happier about it."

He was closer now, standing directly over Sam. He crouched, trailing the blade gently against Sam's face. The fear in Sam's eyes grew, and Dean stamped on the small spark of guilt that threatened to flare back up.

 _No,_ he snarled to himself. _Those days are_ over.

He stood again.

"You know what Sammy? I'm gonna do you a favour. Since you're my brother and all, and we've been through _so much_ together. I'll make this quick, what do you say?"

He adjusted his grip on the blade. Finally he could excise that part of him that still struggled to be human. He didn't have time to lift the blade though before he was knocked across the room, slamming into the far wall. He growled, picking himself up and wiping his mouth.

"Castiel." He laughed humourlessly. "Should have guessed you'd be waiting to sneak up. You never could stop interfering with things that don't concern you."

"Dean."

Just the one word, and it twisted like a knife inside him. There was no threat, no menace, no fear. Just the way Cas - _Castiel_ \- always spoke it. Calm, and sure, and strong, so full of belief, and Dean was going to slice his throat so he could never speak to him like that again. He tried to move forward, but the angel raised a hand and stopped him, his eyes glowing with the effort. Dean cursed the day he'd decided to help Castiel find his grace. This would have been so much easier if he was still using stolen grace.

"Dean." he said again, and that feeling flared back up. Dean snarled, pushing against Castiel's power. Sam could wait. It was going to be so much more enjoyable killing this angel. It was a good thing Dean had a weapon that would make sure he actually stayed dead this time. Abruptly Cas dropped his hand, the glow in his eyes fading. Dean stumbled forward, then smiled.

"Big mistake, angel." He strode forward, the blade a comforting weight as he hefted it. He pulled his arm back to slash at Castiel, when the angel fell to his knees, face impassive. Dean adjusted quickly, lifting his arm to change his angle. This was going to be so much easier than he'd thought.

"Dean."

There it was again, that _voice_ , the unwavering gaze, and Dean stopped, just for a moment, but it was enough for Castiel to reach up and grab Dean's free arm. Dean paused, thrown off by the unexpected gesture - and it was a gesture, Castiel's hand just resting lightly, and this was triggering something, something Dean didn't want to remember and _wouldn't_ remember. He tried to pull his arm back, but the kneeling man in front of him momentarily tightened his grip, refusing to let the demon above him move away.

"Dean. I know you remember this. I know you know what this means."

Dean tried to pull away again, suddenly fearful. He glanced across at Sam, who still lay unmoving, but with his eyes following every single thing that was going on. Somehow, this didn't feel like something they had planned. There was surprise mixed with pain, and Dean quickly looked away. No. He wasn't going back there again. He _couldn't_ go back there again.

"Let go of me," he rasped, his raised arm beginning to grow weary, and yet he still didn't use the blade and he didn't know why.

"You were like me, once, and I was once in your position. I know, Dean. I know what is going on inside you."

"You know _nothing_." Dean hissed, but still he couldn't force himself to either move away or strike Cas down.

"I remember you said you needed me. And it is a failing on my part that I never thanked you properly for that. That I never told you - that..."

Cas stopped, but never looked away.

"I need you too, Dean. I always have. Why do you think I always come back?"

"Because you always leave!" Dean exploded, unsure where the words had come from but unable to stop them anyway. "You all do! Sam, you left. Cas, you leave all the time! Mom left, dad left, _you all leave_. Well guess what? I'm going to make it so that you leave for good this time!"

He tore his arm back, but Cas gripped tighter, and Dean only succeeded in pulling the angel forwards, near toppling him.

"Fine." Dean snapped. "Have it your way."

He lifted the blade back one last time, dimly aware of Sam yelling in the background, and time slowed. He watched Cas lift his head, his eyes glowing once more. No, not glowing. Just blue. So blue. And he _smiled_ , even as Dean was about to kill him for good, he smiled, and that feeling tore Dean apart, and he tried to stop. He tried to stop, because this was _Cas_ , Cas who had given everything for Dean, and he looked so damn happy to be dying by his hand, _and Dean just couldn't do it._ But that's the funny thing about your own perception of time, because even though it felt like things were going so slowly, they weren't, and before Dean had time to really pull his arm back, the blade was already sinking into the flesh of Cas's body.

Bright white-blue light filled the air, and it stung. A demon body was not made to handle being exposed to angel grace, but Dean didn't care. Demon or not, he couldn't kill Cas, but it looked like he'd gone and done just that anyway.

"Cas!" he cried, releasing his grip on the blade and falling to his own knees in front of him. He grabbed Cas's shoulders, pulling him upright. His eyes were flashing black again, and god did he not want Cas to see that, but the flaring grace was leaving it out of his control. Cas looked back as though nothing were wrong, as though nothing had changed between them, but his eyes were glazing over.

"Cas, come on. You can't leave me now. I know I said - look, I didn't mean it, ok? This thing, this Mark, it makes me who I don't wanna be, but I didn't mean it. Cas!"

He shook Cas again before pulling him close, as though hugging him would stop the slow leak of grace, as though it wasn't burning through him as fast as it burnt out of Cas.

"I'm not leaving you, Dean. I always come back. You know I do."

Cas's voice was quiet, but steady, and he lifted a hand to Dean's face, one gentle caress before clamping it over Dean's eyes.

"You can't look at this Dean. Keep your eyes closed."

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, even under Cas's hand, and clung even tighter. He wasn't going to let Cas go, not even if it killed him. The light began to flare brighter, and Cas lifted his other hand to the side of Dean's head. He began chanting in what Dean assumed to be Enochian, though it was too quiet to hear the words clearly. The light grew brighter and brighter, and Dean could feel the temperature rising, but still he didn't let go, couldn't let go. It tore at him, taking bits away and leaving him stripped bare. There was a final flare, brighter than anything else, and then it was gone, and there was darkness, and Dean fell to the ground.

That was the last time Cas had died for him, and it wasn't just his life he lost. Somehow, even as his grace was burning out, he'd managed to get Sam close enough to heal him, which turned out to be what had saved Cas himself, in the end. One thing about that night Dean would never forget about that night was coming too, seeing Sam frantically performing CPR on Cas, the burnt shape of the tattered and broken remains of his wings burned onto the surface of the floor. Dean had always assumed that Cas's wings had been lost completely after the fall, but it turned out that they had just been damaged beyond recognition, and he had found himself fixating on the shapes, the stark reminder of everything Cas had been through, everything he had lost. Looking at Cas, at Sam, was too much. Far too much. Until Cas coughed, and wasn't that the miracle to end all miracles, and Sam laughed, a tight frantic sort of laugh, and they both turned to Dean. Blood stained Cas's shoulder, more oozing out slowly as Sam lifted him gently. Sam looked wary, but Cas smiled.

"Hello, Dean." he whispered.

~*~

Dean stares blankly at his hands, lost in the memory. It is simultaneously the best and worst one he has, remembering his bent and broken brother lying on the ground, put there by him. Feeling the blade sinking into Cas's flesh, but also the feeling of relief, first when seeing that they were both fine, and then realising that the surging rage and blood lust had, for the first time in over a year, stopped. The guilt, oh the guilt has almost drowned him at times, but there's a sort of peace as well, knowing that he got though something like that, that the people he loves were there to support him through every step he took, that he was having the chance to make it up to them. Not in the usual way he always had, but in a more real way. By showing them that he cared, even if he couldn't say it. By making sure he got better, that he was taking care of himself, to make sure he was around for them. It was weird, the way his whole perspective had been shifting. But it was a good kind of weird.

"Dean? You ok?"

Dean tenses up as Sam enters the kitchen. It's not that he's feeling guilty - well, no more than usual anyway, and certainly not about being up thinking about how much he didn't deserve the people around him - it's just that he hasn't exactly been clear about what's been going on between him and Cas. And so can't exactly explain why he's up, moping around with a half drunk bottle of beer.

"Yeah, just. Y'know. Sometimes sleep isn't really my thing. Too many years of living on only a couple of hours."

"Yeah, I get ya." Sam replies, though his face betrays his skepticism.

"lt's Valentine's Day." Dean blurts out as he looks up towards the clock on the wall. Technically it has been for almost an hour now, and he's not entirely sure why he decided to bring that up. Sam lets out a small laugh.

"Yeah, I guess it is." he replies, following Dean's gaze. "Any reason you're bringing that up? You haven't really gone in for the whole Valentine's thing in years."

"Just. I don't know. Being human, y'know? All the little things. It's nice to think about spending time with people."

"I'll just tell you now, Dean: I really don't need any heart shaped chocolates from you."

"Shut up." Dean answers, once more cursing his inability to come up with decent come backs on the fly. Sam pulls up a chair, sitting across from Dean. He smiles, but Dean recognises the look on Sam's face. That's his _I want to talk about emotional stuff but I'm not quite sure how to start_ face. Dean might be doing much better in a lot of respects, but being open with his feelings the way Sam sometimes tries to get him to be is not something he thinks is ever going to change. Part of what he likes about Cas, really. He's there, but he never really pushes. Just lets Dean know that if he ever wants to, he's there and willing to listen. Who knows, maybe he'll even take him up on it one day. He sighs, willing Sam to either change his mind or just get it over with.

"You sure there's no reason you're up at midnight, drinking, thinking about Valentine's Day?"

And yeah, there it is. He knows Sam means well, but this isn't really the right time. No time is the right time. Then again, while he and Cas have been discreet, they've been getting worse and worse at hiding things. He wonders idly if Cas remembered to close his bedroom door. If he didn't, it is quite likely that Sam might have glanced in on his way to the kitchen and seen that Cas wasn't there, and that his bed was very much not slept in. He's not sure Sam would make the connection, but between his natural paranoia and Sam's rather irritating tendency to be more observant than he really should be, it also wouldn't surprise Dean if Sam _had_ noticed. It's not the fact that Cas is a guy, Sam is well aware of Dean's thoughts there. It's more the fact that it's really just been the three of them for so long, and a shift in their relationship means a shift in dynamic for all of them. He never wants Sam to feel like he's being left out, or forgotten. He'll never be a third wheel. Which just makes it hard for him to figure out how to tell Sam, because he can't think of a way to do it without it sounding that way.

"No." he replies carefully. "Why would there be?"

Sam sits quietly for a moment, playing with his fingers. Dean can almost _see_ the courage building up. It's endearing, in a way.

"It's just, y'know. You've been looking a lot happier than I've seen you in...well, ever really. And I know a lot of that is to do with letting go of all that stuff you've been carrying. And it's great. I can't even begin to describe how happy I am to see you like this."

Dean raises an eyebrow, waiting to see where Sam is planning on going with this, but he just trails off, as though he's forgotten what he was saying. They sit in silence for a few moments. Dean is about to take the chance to slip back into his room and worry about what to do in the morning, when Sam starts talking again.

"You know, with everything we've seen over our lives, there's one thing that's never changed, right? I just want to see you happy. I want me to be happy. I want Cas to be happy. And..."

Sam trails off again, and Dean is pretty sure he knows what Sam is building up too. _Oh yeah, he definitely knows_ he thinks to himself. And once upon a time, Dean would be stopping him right now. But now? Just because he doesn't know how to to tell Sam doesn't mean he doesn't want him to know. So he sits in silence, waiting for Sam to say whatever it he needs to say.

"Look. I know this isn't really your thing, but I just wanted to say, whatever you decide, whatever you want to do, as long as you're both - as long as _you're_ happy, then I'm happy."

Dean takes a swig of his beer, looking at Sam.

"How long have you known?"

Sam laughs again, his shoulders relaxing as the tension escaped with the sound.

"Trust me, a lot longer than _you've_ known. But I think pretty much since you guys started this for real. Like I said, you've been so much happier. Still a grumpy shit, but happy all the same. And you guys try to hide it, but it's sorta obvious, dude. Plus, you're not as quiet as you think you are. Why do you think I've taken to staying out here with the books and music and going to bed long after you?"

"Well, that's my cue to leave." Dean says, standing up and smiling brightly. He can feel the heat rising up his neck and across his face. He walks and tips the rest of his beer down the sink, and damn if that doesn't just sum up where he's at now. Dean Winchester, not even finishing a beer.

"Night, Sammy." he says, attempting to rush out the door without actually looking like he's rushing. Sam grabs his arm on the way past though, halting his exit.

"I'm serious, Dean. You and Cas have been dancing around this thing between you since the day you met, and if I'm being honest having the tension gone has been kinda pleasant. I just...I just want you to know I'm happy, and if you haven't told me because you were worried how I'd react - you don't need to. That's all."

"Thanks, Sam." Dean says gruffly. "I appreciate it."

He can't really say much more, doesn't have the words, but he knows Sam will understand. He claps a hand on his brother's shoulder and continues on his path.

"Night."

"Night Dean. I mean it. Go be happy. Just try and keep the noise down."

"Shut up, Sammy!" Dean yells cheerfully, belatedly realising that he is in danger of waking Cas if he keeps that sort of volume going. He walks down the hallway towards his bedroom - _their_ bedroom, if he's being honest. Cas might have a room that they call his, and he might go spend time in there when he needs to peace and quiet, but it's been weeks - months, even - since he slept a whole night in there.

He opens the door as silently as he's able, closing it with a click and padding across the floor to the bed. He can make out the shape of the man on the bed in the gloom, his eyes not fully adjusted, and the slow, even breathing sounds like he's still asleep. He drops the shirt and track pants he'd put on when he'd got up onto the floor before sliding under the covers. He shuffles closer to Cas, throwing an arm over him as he presses himself against his back.

"Did you and Sam have a good talk?"

Cas's voice is soft and warm, and very much awake.

"Shit Cas, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't wake me. I woke a while ago and noticed you were gone, but I could hear you talking to Sam so I thought I'd leave you to it."

Dean presses a kiss to the back of Cas's neck, enjoying it when Cas shifts back against him. It seems that in here, in this bed, they can never quite get close enough.

"Yeah." He pauses for a moment, wondering if he should tell Cas now or let him get some sleep and wait until morning. Judging by the way Cas is starting to wriggle his ass back against Dean though, sleep may yet be a while off.

"I told Sam. About us, I mean. Or rather, Sam told me he already knew."

"I told you Sam was more perceptive than you gave him credit for."

"Yeah, yeah, everyone knows everything but Dean." he answers, but with no malice. Cas has pulled his hand further over, and is pressing small kisses into his palm and along his wrist. It always short circuits his thinking, which is why he suspects Cas does it so often.

"And how did he take it?"

Cas breaks off his kisses to roll over, facing Dean, a hand reaching up to run along Dean's side.

"He was good. Yeah. Doesn't mind at all."

"Good. Does that mean if I want to slap your ass next time you're bending over in the kitchen I don't have to restrain myself?" Cas asks, and goddamn if _that's_ not something Dean is never going to get over. Since this thing between them has started, Cas has been showing Dean a completely different side to himself, and it is _hot_.

"That all depends on whether you're willing to follow through." he responds, leaning closer to whisper against Cas's lips. Normally that's all the invitation Cas needs, but he doesn't kiss Dean like he normally would. Instead he grabs Dean's ass, pulling it roughly until they're rubbing together, Dean's cock rapidly hardening. To his surprise he finds that Cas is already rock hard, and now that his eyes are adjusting he can see the smirk Cas is wearing, the glint in his eyes, and Dean's breath catches in his throat. Cas speaks again, his voice dropping even lower than its usual gruffness.

"It's Valentine's Day, Dean. I do believe this is a day where romance is customary."

He punctuates his statement with another hard grind against Dean, his hand still firmly on Dean's ass, and Dean grins.

"Something tells me romance isn't exactly what you have in mind right now, Cas."

Cas finally crosses the last few millimeters between them, kissing Dean hungrily, rolling half on top of him, and Dean isn't sure if he's ever been so turned on so quickly in all his life. He kisses back with everything he's got, before Cas suddenly pulls away. He slots a leg between Dean's and begins rocking gently.

"Romance can wait until the sun is up, Dean."

"Not that I'm complaining, but what's gotten into you?"

"I missed you. I need you." Cas says simply, pecking at Dean's lips but not stopping his gentle back and forth. Dean suppresses a groan, mindful of the fact that Sam can hear them.

"Cas, I want to make this a special day for you. I'm not talking sappy movies and roses, but I want to show you - "

"Dean." Cas interrupts, his voice growing hard. "I know how you think. I know the way you've been keeping a tally of things others have done for you, and you're trying to even the balance. And I will not have you doing it with me."

"But -"

"But nothing. There is no tally between us, no scales that need balancing. Everything I have ever done for you, I have done because I _want_ to, not because I expect repayment later. And even if I did, what you've done for me...there's no way to quantify it."

"Cas, I _killed_ you!"

"Really? Because I seem to be here now, don't I? I'm no angel anymore, but that, ultimately, was a decision _I_ chose to make. Not you. You owe me nothing."

Dean is rendered speechless by the sheer conviction in Cas's voice, and he has no choice but to believe him. And Cas is right, they are equal. They always have been, really, and it was only Dean himself that prevented him from being able to recognise that fact. He grabs Cas, pulling him down for another kiss. He pours all his feelings into it, hoping that Cas will understand, and he knows that somehow he does.

Cas continues rolling his hips, eliciting small whimpers from Dean as he fights to keep things quiet. He nips at Dean's lower lip, something that always sends messages straight to Dean's dick. Dean bucks his hips upwards, pulling at Cas until he's completely on top of him, relishing the weight bearing down on him. And the _heat_. Dean can still never quite believe how warm Cas gets when they're like this.

He moans, finally giving over to sensation and not caring about what Sam may or may not be able to hear. He can move to a room on the other side of the bunker if this is going to bother him. His hands roam over Cas's body, feeling the firm muscles that ripple beneath his skin, before dipping down under the waist of Cas's boxers. Cas grunts as Dean shifts, separating his legs to pull Cas in closer, both hands on Cas's ass. Cas thrusts down, and Dean decides that this isn't nearly enough.

"Cas, you gotta take these things off." he pants, pushing futilely at the material. Cas seems to be as desperate as Dean is, and he sits up hurriedly, tugging on the boxers as Dean removes his as quickly as he can. The second they are both stripped naked Dean grabs Cas, wrapping his legs around his waist and pulling him down for another kiss, cocks rubbing together until Dean can hardly stand it.

"Fuck, you're right Cas. Romance can wait. I want you to fuck me. Now."

It had come as something of a surprise to Dean, but he loved nothing more than giving himself over completely to Cas, letting Cas take what he wanted. He was so used to taking control everywhere else in his life that finding someone he trusted enough to take control of him...well, it was _hot_. More than hot.

"Do you want the tie?" Cas murmurs, only the slightest hitch in his voice giving away how much he is enjoying this. Dean nods, hoping that Cas would suggest it, because as much as he enjoys it, he still feels strange asking for it.

Cas moves quickly, rummaging through the bedside cabinet until he's found what he's looking for. He drops a small bottle next to Dean's hip, then busies himself tying Dean's wrists together. They don't exactly do this every night, but they do it often enough that Cas's movements are practiced and efficient, knowing the exact tightness that Dean likes. He pulls on the knot, checking it, before taking the other end and tying it to the head of the bed.

"You ok?" Cas asks.

It's another reason Dean loves doing this with Cas. He has never once not felt safe. He nods, pulling gently on his restraint.

"You know, Cas, if I'd known what this tie was gonna end up being used for when we first met, I'd have -"

"Thought twice about stabbing me in the chest?" Cas replies, already snaking his way down.

"Well, yeah. That too."

"That was only the first time you pierced my heart, Dean, though the second time was somewhat more metaphorical." Cas says, and Dean is completely bewildered as to how he can manage to say such overwhelmingly _cheesy_ shit while getting ready to shove a cock in his mouth.

"Hey, no romance until morning, remember? Or whatever that was."

He feels Cas huff a laugh, but all amusement flies out the window when Cas begins licking, his tongue moving in long strokes along the length of his cock. He groans again, pulling on the restraints, wanting nothing more than to shove his hands into Cas's hair and loving the frustration of not being able to, of being completely as Cas's mercy as he does what he wants, when he wants.

Cas presses his palms onto Dean's thighs, pressing them apart before lifting them slightly, leaving Dean completely exposed. Dean can see now, and he takes in the sight of Cas's head bobbing, though never quite getting close enough to be able to take him in. It's the best kind of pain. He can't help himself though and pushes up with his hips, hoping that Cas takes the hint and swallows him down, but he doesn't. Instead, Cas pushes down on Dean's hips, keeping him still, then moves further down. His breath tickles Dean's balls, and he can hardly stand it, but when Cas takes them in his mouth Dean swears he can see stars exploding above him.

"Jesus, Cas, that's..." he doesn't know how to finish that sentence. His cock is begging for attention, but he doesn't care, just wants Cas to keep doing what he's going and to hell with everything else. Of course, that's when Cas stops, releasing them slowly, but Dean doesn't even have time to protest before Cas is dropping _even lower_ , his hands moving from Dean's hips to begin caressing his cock in maddeningly light touches. Dean doesn't even know what to concentrate on, the hands driving him mad, or the tongue that from out of nowhere is lapping at his ass, probing gently at his hole, seeking entrance. He throws his head back, tugging his hands down and lets out a series of pants. Cas is really pulling out all the stops tonight. He pulls his legs up further, lifting his ass slightly to give Cas more room to manoeuvre, and man does it work. Cas dives in greedily, and it doesn't take long until Dean feels his tongue enter him, at the same time the grip on his cock tightens.

"Fuck." Dean manages to get out between breathes. "Cas, you're gonna have me finishing right here and now if you're not careful. Please. I want you inside me."

At first Dean is sure that Cas is going to ignore him, so focused on his task he is, but after a moment Cas sits up, groping for the bottle of lube.

"I have every intention of doing that again, Dean." Cas says huskily. "But I plan to keep going a lot longer next time."

Dean knows that's a promise, and he fully intends to hold Cas to it, but right now he just _needs_. He needs Cas inside him, he needs to be kissing him, he needs to be moving with him. All he can do is nod frantically as his body begins writhing almost of it's own accord, missing the contact. The cap pops off the bottle and he watches Cas coat his fingers quickly but thoroughly.

Cas circles Dean's hole, already dampened, and easily inserts one finger. His other hand grips Dean's cock, giving it a few lazy tugs as his finger twists in and out, leaving Dean unable to decide whether to push up or press down. He bucks almost wildly between the two, until Cas lets go of his cock to hold him down.

"Dean, you know how this works. Give me time, and then I will do whatever you want me to do to you."

Dean immediately stills, summoning all his willpower to do so. Luckily it doesn't take Cas long to finish his preparations. He jumps immediately to three fingers, and the sudden intrusion feels like it _should_ hurt but damn if it doesn't feel anything but divine.

"My, you are an eager one tonight, aren't you?" Cas growls, removing his fingers to reach for the lube again. He takes his time though, hands slowly stroking his own cock as he gazes down at Dean until Dean _knows_ how slick it must be, but still he makes no moves to enter him.

"Cas, c'mon. Don't make me beg."

"Maybe I want to hear you beg, Dean. Do you think you would, if I asked you to?"

"You know I would."

Cas smirks, and Dean knows that's going to be filed away for future reference, but he can tell that Cas has already tested the limits of his own patience. He doesn't make Dean wait any longer, dropping suddenly over him, his hands either side of Dean's head. He claims another kiss, and this is where Dean finds having his hands tied up the hardest, because he wants nothing more than to pull Cas closer, to never let go of him, but he can't. Instead he raises his head as far as he can, his legs parting further as he does so, and _that's_ a hint he knows Cas will take.

Cas reaches down, lining himself up. Dean loves this moment of anticipation, the head of Cas's cock bumping against him, loves the way Cas always waits a moment before slowly, so achingly slowly, pushing forward. It seems to take a hundred years before Cas finally bottoms out, and that feeling of fullness, completeness fills Dean with bliss.

As always, Cas waits a moment before slowly pulling back, his movements soft and tender, and Dean loves it, but tonight he wants more. He wraps his legs around Cas and growls.

"Not tonight, Cas. I said I want you to fuck me, and I mean it. I'm not going to break."

Castiel's hips snap forward without any other reply, and Dean knows that Cas was just waiting for Dean to ask for it. This is what they both need, tonight. He lets go, hips leaping up to meet every one of Cas's thrusts, and when Cas hits Dean's prostate he can't help but grunt and moan, and he doesn't care if Sam hears, he doesn't care if the whole damn world hears, as long as Cas _just doesn't stop_. He can't stop his arms from pulling down on the tie, his hands trying desperately to reach for Cas. He's fairly certain he's pulling hard enough to leave bruises, and the thought of being marked like that just turns him on more.

Cas is licking at his neck, moaning with each movement, his hands tangling in Dean's hair. Dean pulls at Cas with his legs, willing him to go just that little bit deeper, harder, and Cas responds. They're growing spectacularly out of time with each other now, each man's desperation driving them on, but it doesn't matter to Dean. Cas is still pounding into that bundle of nerves, and he can feel that familiar tightening.

"Oh fuck, Cas, I can't, I'm gonna - " He can't finish a single sentence and before he knows it he's coming, his whole body locking up around Cas, the mess spreading between their bodies. Cas manages only a few more wild thrusts before he is coming as well. Dean can feel himself being filled up and he doesn't let go of Cas until he's sure he's finished, wanting to keep this feeling as long as he can.

Cas collapses on top of Dean, breathless and sweating. He fumbles with the tie, eventually getting Dean free. Dean immediately drops his arms, as tired as they are, and holds Cas close, nuzzling at his hair. He leaves a little trail of kisses as he goes until Cas has enough breathe back to speak.

"I think that might have been the best one yet." he mumbles, already succumbing to the promise of sleep. Dean knows he should keep Cas awake a little longer, just long enough to clean themselves up. He _should._

 _Fuck it,_ he thinks. In the morning it'll be Valentine's Day proper. If that's not the perfect excuse to spend an entire day moving back and forth between shower and bed, he doesn't know what is.

  



End file.
